Protector
by Ms Trick
Summary: Now you're thinking, "No way would a Slayer be getting drunk in a demon bar" but I ain't lying. Some rumours have been going around. I'm not one to tell but...


She's here again. I gotta tell you, she's bad for business. Not that she's been starting fights or nothing. She comes in here twice every weekend at the least, and does her best to get as wasted as possible.  
  
Now you're thinking "No way would a Slayer be getting drunk in a demon bar" but I ain't lying. Some rumours have been going around. I'm not one to tell but...  
  
After that whole incident where some demons found out about the robot the white hats were using as a decoy, a lot of demons were confused about the Slayer's whereabouts. Get this: she was dead.  
  
The rest of my knowledge comes from her intoxicated lamenting. Turns out her little witch friend, the redhead, resurrected her because she thought her friend had gone to Hell. And this girl calls herself a witch. Witch she may be--she's got a lot of power just waiting to muddle with her head--but she's still an idiot. She didn't even do a séance to see where her friend was before calling upon the god of death to get her back.  
  
Well, turns out our little Slayer friend was in Heaven. But I mean...why wouldn't she be? Nearly all Slayers have a get-in-free card to Heaven. And now she's back, here on Earth, here in Sunnydale. Now you getting a pretty good idea why she's drinking herself into oblivion? Going from Heaven to the Hell Mouth with a spell that shouldn't have worked is enough to crack anyone.  
  
Apparently, she hasn't told her friends yet, except for her vampire. She talks a lot when she's drunk. I've learned a lot; not all of it useful or even remotely interesting.  
  
Anyway, you'd think a drunken Slayer would be an easy target in a demon bar but she's untouchable. The reason is sitting at table number three, smoking a cigarette. He's been here every night she has. Always staying out of her way, letting her have her drink, but keeping her safe.  
  
Spike's track record was one that was second only to his grandsire. True, he'd been softened by the government chip in his head and his devotion to the Slayer, but nobody wanted to risk getting their head ripped off for attempting to hurt her. Ironic, innit? The Vampire Slayer's protector happens to be one of the strongest vampires in history.  
  
Tonight started no different than any other night she's been here. She walked in; her eyes depressed as usual, her gait lacking the bounce I remember it once held. And he came in less than five minutes after her.  
  
Usually, at the end of the night, when she was utterly intoxicated or nearly so, she would do her best to walk home. I'd imagine he discreetly helped her then too since she was always back the next time.  
  
I wonder if she knows he's there. She doesn't pay him any attention if she does. He hasn't ever approached her, except to carry her home when she passed out once. Tonight was different.  
  
She was only a little bit past tipsy when he stubbed out his cigarette and walked up to the bar and sat next to her.  
  
She looked at him blearily, nursing her drink.  
  
"What do you want?" She managed to choke out, her eyes half closed.  
  
He sighed.  
  
"Come on, pet. Your friends are worried about you."  
  
She gurgled a laugh.  
  
"Shyeah. That's why I'm in Hell. Here's to friendship!" She said sarcastically and a little too loudly, raising the glass high before knocking it back and letting its remains pour into her throat.  
  
"I know you're in pain. And I know I have no idea what you're going through but this isn't helping any, ducks."  
  
She looked at her glass like she was about to cry.  
  
"But it makes me forget, makes it stop hurting for--" She swallowed. "-- little time."  
  
"And then the hurt comes back full force in the morning with a hangover."  
  
This time she did start to cry. She put her head in her hands.  
  
He looked a little uncertain of what to do. I guess a little time on the good side doesn't automatically equip you with knowledge on how to handle people. He hesitated for a second and then rubbed her back a few times. She turned around and threw her arms around his neck. Her sobbing was muffled by his shoulder. He looked surprised by the sudden contact and awkwardly put his arms around her.  
  
They both didn't seem to notice that they had the rapt attention of every demon in the room.  
  
She snuggled into him, her tears and the alcohol putting her promptly to sleep.  
  
He gave her a small, sad smile and shifted her gently. Putting one arm under her knees and the arm around her shoulders, holding her close, her lifted her and walked out.  
  
I watched until he left and then picked up her empty glass. I knew she wasn't coming back. 


End file.
